Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I just made them live in Cleveland.

Author’s note: This is a continuation of ‘The Rest of Our Lives.’ It is a good idea to read that one before starting this fic, if you don’t I suspect you’ll be horribly confused. *Huggles and other good things* to my fabulous beta... Bloodytearsoflife. She rocks. I would be lost without her.
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Chapter 1: Disappointment

Buffy Graves, Slayer extraordinaire, was pushing the vacuum around her living room, desperately trying to make herself not think about the failed pregnancy test that was lying in the bathroom wastebasket upstairs.

She was desperately trying not to think about the letter that sat on the dinning room table, that announced that Faith was pregnant...again.

She was desperately trying to ignore the stack of magically sealed white envelopes that sat in her bedside table drawer.

She was desperately trying to not look at the smiling faces of her two yet unborn children that sat on the mantle piece.

Buffy shut off the vacuum and sat down on the couch with a sigh. Her house was so quiet now that Dawn, Willow and Oz had packed up and gone to England. The pictures on the mantle piece mocked her with carefully preserved happiness. Dawn smiled, her blue eyes sparkling on her birthday, before they sent her off to Oxford to pursue her ancient languages degree. Willow and Oz’s portrait looked down on her. They were in England too, Willow in her second year of doing her masters at Cambridge, Oz faithfully following her.

It’s not like the house was completely empty. Andrew was lurking in the attic. Why Giles thought she needed Andrew of all people to be her Watcher was beyond her.

Anya was still here too. The Magic Box, version 2.0 was doing well in Cleveland. Anya had a staff that knew what they were talking about and whom she was keeping a close eye on just in case they strayed over to the dark side. Anya had plans for a worldwide chain of stores. Buffy had been subjected to the demon’s business plan and personal goals for the next hundred years.

It was good to know that Anya would still be around when Buffy herself was all immortal and childless.

‘Cause that’s how she felt.

But the good news was if she didn’t have kids after all, she wasn’t going to die. Not if the prophecy was true anyway.

Blood of light, Blood of dark,
Blood of Blood,
Blood spilt to cover up the evils of blood’s evil,
Undercover of darkness blood is hidden,
Three times blood is split, three times evil rises,
Blood of light, Blood of dark,
Cycle begins anew.

It was still on the fridge, there for all to see as they raided the insides for hot pockets, blood, or cold pizza. It was a constant reminder that Buffy was as far from normal as she could get.

On the outside everything appeared normal. The house was well kept, clean: the garbage was always at the curb on time. In the driveway sat Buffy’s black convertible, and Spike’s black Desoto that he had restored himself to replace the one that he lost in Sunnydale. There were of course the little things that if a passer-by had a discerning eye, they would be able to tell that this was not a normal family. Spike’s license plate read ‘Big Bad’ or that they lived directly across the street from a cemetery or that the man of the house never came outside during the day. Anya preferred to teleport in and out of the house at will and hardly ever used the door but was always the first to answer it when they got a delivery. And then there was Andrew, with his million cameras scattered about the house, pointing out windows and from under the porch roof.

Frankly Buffy was afraid to go up to the attic. Andrew’s room was the one place in her house she was truly afraid of. There were probably dishes with fuzzy leftovers on them in there that had developed their own language by now.

With another sigh, Buffy picked up the vacuum and headed up to the attic anyway, passing by the entrance to Nerd Haven and over to the storage closet to put the appliance away.

She hated this storage space. This is where they kept their things. Four boxes that were labelled, Ariel and Cat.

On top of which sat the birthday and Christmas presents that her father had sent them. Buffy just hadn’t the heart to tell him that they had left and that he would never see them again.

Buffy trudged back down to the second level of her house and plopped down in the office chair, her history textbook open before her on the desk. She was supposed to be studying for her midterm on the Boar War but it just wasn’t sinking in. She had too many thoughts swirling around in her head. Too many memories. She looked at the clock wondering when Spike was gonna get back from his blood and smokes run so that they could go patrol. Anything to get her out of her melancholy mood.

Her latest report from Xander: Super Watcher, in England was full of a whole lot of nothing on the apocalyptic front. A lot of boring nothing. Everyone was flocking to England and she was left with boring tests.

Downstairs Buffy heard the front door open and close, and felt the familiar tingles that meant ‘mate’ run up and down her neck. Oh thank god, she thought as she took to the stairs and launched herself into Spike’s arms.

He placed a kiss on her head and hugged her close. He’d been feeling her disappointment all day. He hardly needed to ask what had happened. Sometimes he wondered why she bothered with the pregnancy tests at all. Ariel had told them in her letter that they wouldn’t have kids until two years after they were married. It had only been a year and a few months. They were immortal, no sense in rushing things when you had eternity.

“Let’s patrol,” she whispered into his neck, nuzzling her marks there. “Want to do something, fight something to make me forget.”

Spike nodded and put down the bag of blood he had been carrying, picked up few random stakes from the hallway table and headed outside, his bride still wrapped in his arms. It was only once they were across the street that he finally put her down.

With a forced smile on her face, Buffy grabbed one of his offered stakes. “Bring on the evil vamps. Slayer wants to play.”

“If you wanted to play with evil vamps love, we could have stayed at home,” he said with a leer.

“We’ll be doing that kind of playing later Spike,” she promised.

Buffy put up a brave front, trying to make herself feel better. The cemetery was quiet which wasn’t helping her mood. She knew this cemetery like the back of her hand, ok, maybe not quite, but she was very familiar with it. She closed her eyes and focused on the vampire energy in the cemetery and stepped towards it, turning a few times to avoid tombstones. A few steps past the crypt that Spike called his own for about three days a year and a half ago, Buffy fell face first onto the wet grass.

Buffy groaned and lifted herself up off the ground and looked back to see what she had tripped over.

“Oh my god!” she moaned.

Spike stepped around the body in the grass and gave it a little kick.

“Yep, the bugger is dead,” he muttered.

“Spike! Have some feelings. It’s Gable!” Buffy said as she stood up and brushed the dew from her pants.

“Oh the feelings are flowing. It’s kind of a fun tingly feeling actually. The wanker is dead! I feel like a party,” Spike continued.

“That’s not nice, Spike,” said Buffy as if it was a conditioned response.

He looked at her smugly.

“Oh ok!” she conceded. “He’s dead, vengeance done, woo hoo,” she continued blithely. “The question is, who killed him?”

With a nod, Spike crouched down low to inspect the body. He examined the neck looking for wounds or any indication of just what killed him.

“Don’t know, luv,” noted the vampire after an exhaustive search. “No marks, no blood. Don’t know what it was. Not a vamp. The wanker’s neck isn’t even broken.”

“Ya, but what is that smell?” asked Buffy wrinkling her nose.

“Noticed that did ya?” Spike asked.

“Smells like....take out that’s been in the fridge too long,” she observed. “Or Andrew’s room.”
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It was a joyous occasion. For Andrew anyway. It was as if his long months waiting to be the revered watcher had paid off. He had an assignment. Find what kind of demon kills without leaving marks and left behind a foul smell. And he was up for the task.

Locked away in his attic room, he immersed himself in the volumes (duplicates) of reference materials Giles had left him with. He would get this right. He would make a difference. He’d finally get the respect that he deserved as Buffy’s watcher. Ever since he’d returned to Cleveland, to be a field watcher, with Buffy, the formidable Chosen One, he’d been longing for this opportunity.

Perhaps this would get him back to England, within the bosom of the Watcher’s Council, closer to the heart of the organisation. Closer to Dawn.
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“Do you think it’s fair to leave it in the hands of Andrew, the guestage?” asked Anya, as she sat down with Buffy to eat breakfast the next day. “I mean, you didn’t like Gable, no one did, really. Whether you liked him or not, he deserves justice.”

“I’m not going over his head this time, Anya,” Buffy explained. “He’ll just whine and say that we don’t trust him or respect him...whine, whine, whine. It’s about time he pulled his weight around here anyway. He’ll look for a while, if he finds anything out, I’ll follow up, but I’m not putting it on my priority list. It’s Gable. I had to pretend I was his cousin, so the cops could identify his body. That’s the most I’m willing to do at this point for him.”

“You are still bitter because of what he did to Spike,” added Anya, stating the obvious.

“Like how,” noted Buffy.

“I still think you should tell Giles. He likes to be kept in the loop. He is the head of the Watcher’s Council after all.”

Buffy nodded her head. “Ya, and I’m the Chosen One, shouldn’t my instincts be respected? It’s probably just some demon that decided to that taking out the Demon Hunter of Cleveland was a good bragging point. I’ll probably slay it next week when it thinks it can take out the Immortal Chosen One.”

“You really like this immortal bit, don’t you?” asked Anya.

“Hey, I’ve got to have some good points in this dreary childless life,” complained Buffy.

Anya reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “You’ve only been married for a year and a bit, Buffy. You’re immortal, you’ve got lots of time to have kids.”

“You sound like Spike,” Buffy sniffled. “I’m ok with it, really I am. Well, I was until I knew about Ariel and Cat.”

“You wanna come to the Magic Box with me and help me do inventory?” asked Anya completely out of the blue, but in a sympathetic tone, like it was supposed to help.

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll let you look at the money? Maybe you could even hold it?”
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Buffy bounced out onto the porch in a happy mood. It had been a few months since Gable’s death. Andrew had come up with many leads but nothing significant. It was routine stuff on patrol. Buffy was certain that she must have killed the demon by now, given the odds. Cleveland’s hellmouth wasn’t as active as Sunnydale’s was. So unless this demon, whatever it was, left town, or was lying low, Buffy was pretty sure she’d gotten it.

She put her hand into the mailbox and pulled out two bills and pink envelope, Faith’s handwriting scrawled over the front.

It didn’t take Buffy’s imagination long to deduce just what was contained in the envelope. Walking into the house, dazed, Buffy dropped the bills on the floor and kicked the door shut. She walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, desperately trying not to start shaking.

With a deep breath, Buffy tore into the envelope. The pink cover of the card held a picture of a white teddy bear. Trying to control what her hands were doing, Buffy opened the card.

It’s a Girl!
Parents, Robin and Faith Wood,
are pleased to announce the birth of their littlest addition:
Nicole Elizabeth Wood


Buffy dropped the card on the floor, not bothering to look at the date or the weight of the child in question. She hugged her arms to herself, her control over her body’s reaction to the news wavering. Faith had another kid, while she was still waiting. Life so wasn’t fair.

Spike found her on the couch an hour later when he finally woke up. Her face was wet with tears, the mail scattered around the front hall and in the living room. His eyes lighted on the card at her feet and knew instantly what was wrong. Picking up the little pink card he read it, and placed it on the mantle, like it belonged there, then he sat down next to his wife and mate, gathering her up into his arms.

“Why is life so unfair?” she asked, sniffling into his black tee.

In response, Spike kissed Buffy’s blond head. He had a million things to say to her in this situation, unfortunately they were the same million things he’d already said to her in this same situation. He wanted to make everything better for her, take away this longing to have children, get her pregnant and make her happy all in the same moment.

He pulled her onto his lap and took her upstairs to their bed. Even before he’d laid her down on the soft comforter she was already removing her clothes. They’d fallen into a pattern: Buffy gets sad about not having kids, they have sex.

It made him feel like a hired stud.

He took a step back from the bed, as his eyes passed over his wife’s now exposed upper body. It didn’t matter why they were doing it, he couldn’t help but love the time he spend inside her hot confines.

Her nimble fingers pulled at his button fly, bringing him out of the denim casing, eager and ready for whatever activities she wanted then and there. With a quick lick to the underside of his cock he was hard and ready for her. She shimmied out of her own pants and threw them across the room, setting to work on Spike’s jeans once again.

The black jeans tossed out of the way, Spike settled down between her thighs, his tongue working his way towards her lush pink core, already wet with anticipation.

She didn’t want foreplay, she didn’t want to be teased, but what she wanted, he wasn’t going to give to her until he was good and ready. His expert tongue laved her slit tenderly, teasing her. He ignored her moans for him to get on with it. Demanding chit. Or the pulls at his hair. He was set about this particular act. She was going to have to live with it. As her knees bent and squeezed against his hands pushing them back, he sucked on her clit, bringing her closer to release.

The room rang with her screams as she finally was overcome with the sensations Spike was creating down below. In an instant Spike was poised at her entrance, waiting to be invited in.

“Please, Spike, don’t keep me waiting,” she pleaded, her voice breathy from previous cries of pleasure.

He slid into her wet channel, filling her up. This was home to him: it only needed one more thing to be complete. He brought his fangs to the fore and bit down upon his marks on her neck as his cock trust deep into her. The double penetration made it hard for him to hold back, and the room was filled with Buffy’s grunts as she took the full force of his harsh pounding.

“Mine,” he growled, removing his fangs from her neck and licking the wound closed.

The smile on her face told him she didn’t mind the force of his trusts. Suddenly she flipped him, riding him a few seconds before she leaned down and bit into his neck.

“Mine,” she growled back, smiling with his blood on her lips.

That scene alone could make any vamp come.
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tbc...